


Hardly Ordinary

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Community: sherlockkink, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 09:21:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may not be Sherlock bloody Holmes, but he's not a complete idiot either, and it would take someone much dimmer to not understand what is happening here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardly Ordinary

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this kink meme prompt: short verison – _Low Latent Inhibition, Holmes can't sleep after Watson leaves, shows up strung out on no sleep, Watson figures out that his prescene is what Holmes needs. Even shorter version: H/W cuddlefic_

It has been just over two months since Watson left Baker Street, and he has not seen Holmes more than three or four times during the entire span of time. And yet, here he is, rousing him from a comfortable bed at a time when every other sane person is fast asleep. Watson manages to reassure Mary that he won't be long, and descends the stairs in his dressing gown to deal with the madman.

Holmes is standing just inside the doorway, jittery, and Watson really doesn't have the patience for this now. "Holmes," he says, and Holmes jumps at his voice. "What are you doing? What are you thinking? It's the middle of the… no; it's far too early in the morning."

Holmes gives him a rather panicked look, all whites and black circles. "Uh," he responds, eloquently as always, and Watson just knows he isn't going to get Holmes out of here anytime soon.

Watson sighs. "Come on, Holmes. Brandy in the sitting room. Then I want some sort of an answer." Holmes prowls the room, hands running over everything, shooting Watson little glances every few seconds, and Watson stands in the doorway and wonders if he's been at the cocaine again. He pours them both a generous measure, and settles himself in his chair. Holmes totters around for a moment or two more, and then folds himself onto the floor next to the chair, propped up against Watson's leg. Holmes breathes out a long breath, not quite forceful enough for a sigh, and the high strung tension leaves his body along with it.

Watson looks down at his dark head, watches him drift off, breathing settling and heartbeat steadying. He may not be Sherlock bloody Holmes, but he's not a complete idiot either, and it would take someone much dimmer to not understand what is happening here. He shakes Holmes gently, a hand on his shoulder, and as Holmes blinks up at him, "Holmes. When is the last time you slept through the night?"

Holmes tries to answer him, but he can't seem to keep the numbers straight in his head, and Watson doesn't need anything more to tell him that it's been too long. He shakes his head at the sheer stubborn willpower of Sherlock Holmes, and hauls Holmes to his feet. The sofa is wide enough for two, and he arranges them so Holmes is draped over him, his arms wrapped around Holmes' waist, anchoring him. Holmes' breath is slow and even against his collarbone, and Watson stares at the ceiling. He has no doubt he is doing something reckless and stupid, and there is a terrible chance that Mary will take this wrong way; but there is almost an equal chance that, as she is as smart as Holmes gives her credit for being, she will understand. They are not a threat to each other, whatever Homes might believe, and Watson thinks that Mary may come to understand that herself.

Holmes is an extraordinary man, and an extraordinarily difficult one, but they are hardly ordinary newlyweds.


End file.
